Last Friday was tough. Plain and simple. Not only did we have an afternoon packed with back to back appointments, but we got news we didn’t want to hear, and my little angel spent 30 minutes terrified by her thyroid ultrasound.

Addie has had several tests performed in the last couple of years, and the one thing that scares her the most right now are hospital beds. It does not matter what test is being performed, if she needs to lay on a hospital bed, forget it. Friday was no different. She was nervous, but I talked her through the ultrasound while we waited to be called back. Our tech called us back and Addie was nothing but smiles. Then we went into the room…

Instantly, Addie started protesting, then crying, then deliberately moved her chin down to block her neck as much as possible. These moments are some of the hardest when it comes to parenting. This is when all she wanted was to be comforted and rescued, and I couldn’t do that. Instead, I sat next to her and gave her a hug to keep her arms down, kissed her forehead, told her it would be okay. It only helped for 30 seconds. Then she went back to screaming, crying, and trying to free her hand to push the tech away. Thirty minutes felt like 3 hours, and when she was done, I thanked the tech for her patience, scooped my baby girl up in my arms, and hugged her all the way to the car. It was a rough afternoon, and although it would get better after picking up daddy, there was still a conversation with daddy I did not want to have.

Before the ultrasound, we followed-up with the ENT. The appointment was incredibly frustrating, but mostly heartbreaking, and that news I had to share with Ben. With the diagnosis of Pendred Syndrome, our little girl cannot play contact sports. We were aware of that and even though it panged me every time I passed a park with swarms of kids playing soccer, I had accepted the fact that she was never going to have the soccer experiences I had. I was accepting, because baseball was her favorite sport. She loves playing it AND she is incredibly talented at it. That was all taken away on Friday. I was informed that any sport with a ball flying in her proximity would be a huge risk. Baseball was out. That was incredibly hard to hear, especially since the doctor thought it appropriate to suggest Cross Country for a 4 year old. I wanted to slap him.

Sharing that information with my husband that night was hard. Even though he is a musician, his childhood was filled with recreational sports, all sports which would be classified as “contact sports.” With that on our minds, there was a certain sadness that loomed over us as we walked down the beach.

What was she going to do? While watching Addie run through the sand and collect rocks and shells, we realized she was happy. She was oblivious to what the doctor had told us, and at the end of the day, we could still play soccer and baseball at the park, and in our backyard. That was good enough for her. From there we could explore her passions. Oddly enough, the next day she expressed a desire to take a “ballerina class.” So that is where we are at. No soccer, no baseball, but she wants to try dancing. That is a start, and if she decides she wants to be a ballerina, we will support her every step of the way.

Now if the ENT suggests that dancing is not a good idea, somebody might need to post my bail. :-)